


What Mr. Arthur Said To Billy Knapp

by Laclavande



Category: The Ballad Of Buster Scruggs
Genre: The Gal Who Got Rattled, bc that's what this is, did the coen brothers know they were gonna inspire emo fan fiction?, i fully acknowledge the problematic depiction of native americans in this movie btw, i had no idea how to tag this so i just tagged the movie??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 20:13:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17210171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laclavande/pseuds/Laclavande
Summary: so i watched the ballad of buster scruggs and my tragic romance loving ass couldn’t sleep until i’d written this





	What Mr. Arthur Said To Billy Knapp

**Author's Note:**

> so i watched the ballad of buster scruggs and my tragic romance loving ass couldn’t sleep until i’d written this

When Bill saw the blood on Arthur’s head and the dog at his feet he knew what had happened. The whole story was laid out in front of him with those two details, like a book opened on the last page.

 

**_Alice was_ ** **_dead_**

 

He’d begun to dream, damn it. In the quiet moments when he was on his horse, just mindlessly forwarding the way, he had dreamed of Alice— only a few times since she’d actually accepted him, or at least said she was inclined to. He dreamed of their farm and their many children. The book of William and Alice wasn’t meant to end for a long time. He would have gone first of course, it is the gentlemanly thing to do, and they would have been old, and she would have been certain she made the right choice… This damn trail was too treacherous.

 

 

On his long walk back to the wagon train, Arthur mulled over what to say to Bill… He’d never said much to Bill.

 

_It was the Indians’ fault_

_It was the dog’s fault_

_It was her fault_

 

**_It was_ ** **_my_ ** **_fault_ **

 

The last iteration of his explanation tormented Arthur all the way from the dog holes and over the hills. He contemplated lying, not only for his own sake but for Bill’s too. Maybe it’d be easier if he thought it was a shot from an attacker that made that neat hole in Miss Longabaugh’s forehead. Arthur didn’t know much about grief and sadness and _making things easier—_ a straightforward man he was— so he made a gamble on the truth. Bill could discern for himself who was at fault, if fault was what mattered to him. If Arthur was in his situation he didn’t think he’d care much about fault.

 

So when he came down the hill and Bill saw the blood, and President Pierce, and that there was no one else besides, Arthur looked his partner in the eye for what might have been the first time in all their years together, and he said,

“I found Miss Longabaugh.”

“Stop,” said Bill, but Arthur had already stopped talking. He found himself unable to finish what he was trying to say. Bill removed his hat and covered his face with his hand. Then he slapped the horn of his saddle and sniffed hard. Emotion coated his throat as he said,

“You head down. I’ll go get her.”

 

Mr. Arthur had no idea what he would say to Billy Knapp. In the end, he said nothing.

It was to be Bill’s last journey on the trail, just like he said. He settled in Oregon without Alice, and Arthur continued to do what he’d always done. And of course he died, some time later, on the Oregon Trail.


End file.
